59. Natalia

59

NATALIA

"You're lying."

Nikolai throws his head back and laughs. "Why would I lie now? I have you and your runt right where I want you."

He keeps moving closer, and I skitter back. It's not all in fear. Every step back I take, I'm one step closer to my son.

I can just about see over the worn edges of the crate. Grigory has thrown off his blanket and one chubby hand lifts into the air as though he's waving to me.

"Whatever he may have said to you, Misha has always been my man." Nikolai stands between me and the only exit out of this death shed. Viktor joins him, pale and sweaty. He looks like a parasite who's latched onto Nikolai. "Who do you think informed me that you were pregnant?"

It's not true. Misha wouldn't do that to me. He couldn't.

Despite the sweat trickling down my back, I feel cold. "Yelena was informing on me."

He snorts. "You really think she was my only plant?"

"Misha hated Yelena. He's the one who figured out she was spying."

"You idiot woman, it was all an act," Nikolai hisses. "I sacrificed one spy in favor of the other."

It doesn't make any sense… except it could. Couldn't it?

I'm teetering on the edge, clinging to the deep roots of my love for my son when I see a shadow in the tiny gap of the door. Misha's face appears in the space, his hair matted with sweat.

He looks me right in the eye… and winks.

That's all I need.

Keep them talking, that wink says. Keep them distracted.

Keep them here until Andrey can find us.

"You're after the wrong man, Nikolai," I tell him, raising my voice as Misha's shadow creeps out of sight.

Nikolai sighs. "You believed whatever bullshit story he fed you, I see. You're an easy mark."

"You told me that this whole war started because Andrey turned your parents in, but you chose to believe the wrong Kuznetsov."

Nikolai's gaze drifts to Viktor, lazy, uncaring. "What do you have to say about that, eh?"

But Viktor doesn't look capable of thinking on his own anymore. He barely looks capable of standing on his own.

"Speak, mudak !" Nikolai spits.

Viktor jolts. "She's lying. Sh…she's lying."

From the corner of my eye, I see dust being kicked up in the distance. Someone is approaching, but they're being quiet about it.

"Slavik fed you a convincing story and you believed him," I continue, suppressing the urge to look towards the door every few seconds. " He was the one who turned your parents in to the FBI. He was the one who gave the cops all the evidence they needed to try your parents."

Nikolai's smile drops. "Why would he do that and then run?"

"He wasn't trying to leave his son a legacy. He wanted Andrey to fail. He wanted to blow up the Kuznetsov Bratva and re-create it elsewhere. He never meant for Andrey to rebuild what he'd destroyed."

I'm grasping at straws here, pulling words out of thin air to weave a believable story. But the more I talk, the more it makes sense to me.

Something seems to be making sense to Nikolai, too.

"Tell him, Viktor," I demand. "Tell him it's true."

Viktor's jaw drops. "I… I…"

"Fucking SPEAK !" Nikolai bellows again, causing Grigory to hurl his fists in the air and scream with terror.

Instinctively, I move towards the crate, but Nikolai points his gun right at me. "Stay where you are!"

I'm forced to stand and watch helplessly as my baby cries. But so long as that gun is pointed at me, it's not aimed at Grigory.

Slowly, however, Nikolai turns. The muzzle of the gun slides from me… to Viktor. "Is she telling the truth?"

Viktor cowers from the gun, his eyes darting from side to side. "I… My father didn't tell?—"

Nikolai shoots into the floor an inch from Viktor's boot. Viktor lets out a startled yelp and collapses against the wall, gibbering in fear. Grigory shrieks even louder. I risk moving another inch towards the crate. At least now, I can see my baby's pink, distressed face.

"Give me answers or I'll blow your useless fucking brains right out of your head. You have five seconds to tell me the truth." Nikolai threatens. "One. Two. Three?—"

"It was him!" Viktor cries, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes stay fastened on the gun. "It was Slavik who ratted your parents out to the FBI!"

Nikolai's lips pull back in a dangerous jeer. "He was using me to get rid of Andrey."

"H-he respects you?—"

Viktor tries to salvage this, but Nikolai isn't hearing it. "I've had enough of your lies. It appears that's all a Kuznetsov is good for: lies and fuel for my fires."

Nikolai pulls the trigger without warning.

And just like that, there is one less Kuznetsov on this planet.

Viktor slumps against the wall, his head falling to the side like a ragdoll as blood spreads across his chest. His eyes are glassy and empty.

Nikolai's, however, are full of fire. With Viktor dead, there's nothing to distract him from me or my son. He turns on me.

"Your fight is not with me, Nikolai," I rasp.

He spits on Viktor's cooling corpse. "This changes nothing. The history runs too deep."

"If you hurt me or this baby, he will hunt you down!" My voice is so shrill that I barely recognize it.

"He will hunt me down regardless." Nikolai raises his gun once more. "I might as well make it worth his while."

Cool dread pools in my veins. One second is all it would take to end my life and leave Grigory exposed. Through my panic, I see something.

Misha.

He edges through the door as stealthily as he can manage. I'm actually glad that Grigory is still crying, because the sound drowns out Misha's advance.

Unable to stop myself, my eyes slip to Misha. And Nikolai notices.

He turns just as Misha lunges forward, shoulder driving into his stomach. A gunshot ricochets, and I throw myself at the crate, shielding Grigory with my body.

Then I hear something clatter across the floor.

Misha has knocked the gun out of Nikolai's hand and they're rolling on the floor, grappling for position. But Nikolai has at least eighty pounds on the kid, and he knows how to use his weight.

"You little shit!" Nikolai roars, landing a vicious punch on Misha's jaw.

I feel the blow as if Nikolai hit me.

I have to do something. I have to help him.

Then I remember my own gun.

It slipped into the shadows, but now, I can reach it. I crawl to the corner and grab hold of the weapon just as Nikolai stands over Misha, one foot on my son's chest.

"You had so much fucking potential," he snarls in Misha's face. "But you came from a whore. I should've known you'd die like one."

All the lessons I learned, courtesy of Shura and Evangeline, run through my head. But in the end, I don't need any of them.

I raise my gun and aim it at Nikolai's back.

He's still talking. "Now, I'm going to?—"

His last words are lost to the sudden bubble of air and blood in his lungs.

His legs buckle. Color drains from his face as he turns slowly, catching sight of me in the corner, gun raised.

As he crumbles to his knees, I clutch one son tight to my chest and walk over to the other.

"You are done hurting my children," I whisper as Nikolai dies. "You'll never touch them again."